The Fisherman's Daughter (7 page)

He whispers into her ear, “I will save your people. I will bring the lake village folk here where no slavers dare tread, and I will make the High Court know what it means to love humankind.”

She surrenders to him, dissolving into bliss even as he does into her.

Afterwards they lie spent together. She’s covered in mingled sweat, and he traces beads of moisture with his finger over the tips of her breasts. His long mane of near-white hair falls over the both of them, wisps clinging to the sides of her wet hips.

“Your body loves me, but your heart does not,” he says. “I have found in you perfect beauty, everything an elf aspires to create or discover in his lifetime. I must have your happiness. Tell me what I must do to make your soul love me the way your body does.”

She stares at him for a moment. “Freedom.” She already knows the answer.

He kisses her bottom lip. “You don’t want that. Tell me what you find most beautiful, and I will bring it to you.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, holding the back of his head as she kisses his crown. She knows what lie she must tell. She thinks of Tal Harun and Desdemona and the school they wanted to establish in Fairholm. She knows her only hope at freedom hangs on the hope that she can provoke Kaladan into stirring a hornet’s nest. She prays that the wizards of Artalon are fierce enough to serve as her hornets.

“Go free the slaves in Fairholm. Strike down their lords, and bring me Lord Keeva’s head on a plate. Do this for me, and I will never ask you for my freedom again. Do this for me, and I will gladly be your slave.”

Kaladan’s eyes twitch ever so slightly. His lips press a shade thinner. He says nothing for a few long seconds, and then nods.

“It will be done.”

The next morning, Archmage Kaladan does as she asks. His followers have already fastened to humans from the free villages of Fairholm, and Meiri knows she’s not the only one that lives in a gilded cage. She sees the wizard warriors of the sidhe gather, hundreds of them, on the bridges and in the courtyard gardens beneath her window. In unison, at her master’s beckon, they raise their wands. They transform themselves into streaking bolts of fire, shooting up into the air. A swarm of comets, burning the purple of the High Court, tears south through the sky towards Fairholm.

Meiri stares after them. Now that they are gone, it is strangely quiet. She feels Tomoril’s absence in the silence and wonders if he too will fasten to a human when he becomes old enough to quicken.

She knows something the sidhe do not. Fairholm has captured the interest of the human wizards of Artalon. Once the sidhe attack the city, Artalon’s wizards will be forced to respond. Meiri smiles smugly to herself. First, Kaladan will be the instrument of her revenge. Then, Tal Harun and Desdemona will lead an assault on Sutonia. Their child hides in their new magic school. They can’t let an attack on the city go unanswered, and they will find out what is happening in Sutonia. They will free her.

The next morning, Kaladan is still gone. She has slept alone, and she finds herself missing the elf. She closes her eyes and quells the disgust she feels directed at herself.
He killed his father. He is my jailer.
She imagines the battle must be fierce for him to be occupied so.

By afternoon, the elves return. They have human slaves that they’ve freed.
Not freed. Captured
. They walk through the streets, exposed to the elves of Sutonia.

Kaladan stands in the doorway. He holds a silver platter and lifts its lid to reveal the head of Lord Keeva.

“So easy?” Meiri asks. Kaladan looks pleased with himself, interpreting her tone as impressed instead of despairing, a feeling which sinks through her. “Were there no wizards to oppose you?”

“No,” he replies. “They were too few and we were hundreds. They departed the city; what else could they have done?” He walks to the window and tosses the head out into the air. With a flick from his wand, he launches a firebolt, which consumes the head and turns it into ash before it falls to the ground. “Do you love me now?”

She doesn’t know what else to do but surrender. “Yes.” At least her father was avenged.

“The city surrendered after we killed their lords. It still stands, for the most part. I have brought many of your people here, so that all the sidhe might fasten and know what it is to love humankind.”

Of course Tal Harun would not fight them,
she seethed inside.
I’m a fool. He would not jeopardize his plans or his family. And now the city will embrace a wizard school with open arms, worried the sidhe will strike again. All I did was help his own plan, and he knows nothing of me. Surely Artalon takes note of elves stealing humans away?

The prince stares at her with fevered intensity. “Look.” He points towards the window.

Outside, sidhe claim people from among the crowds of refugees. Some fasten upon the same person, and fire flares on the bridge avenues and lightning sparks as elf kills elf. Sidhe men and women alike snatch humans and streak away on wings of magic, sequestering their prizes in secluded apartments. With their fluttering robes and hungry eyes, they remind Meiri of a flock of painted crows. “What have you done?” she murmurs in horror. “What have
I
done?”

“We are all
saldaka
now,” he says. “Uendil was right. We are the Exile Court.”

A year passes. With each day, the young Archmage grows more tortured in his lust for her. Meiri tries to make the best of it and pretend happiness. She can give him lust, but she cannot fake love. At night, her touch is eager and her cries passionate, but in the morning her voice is not as warm as his, her embrace not as inviting. The satisfaction at seeing Lord Keeva’s fate soon fades, and even anger over her captivity dissolves into a quiet numbness. She remembers her dad, and how he had hated it when she lazed about the boat. Now all she does is laze, and sleep, and eat… and let the elf use her fat body. She grows dead inside, and Kaladan more violent the more distant she becomes.

He never strikes her. She knows he can’t bring himself to physically harm her. But his glances become more predatory, his words more barbed. “I hate that I love you,” he says. “You destroyed me and this city.”

“I will grow old,” she replies, “and you will still be young. Then you will be free. I will no longer be pretty to your eyes, and then I will die.”

“I will never be free of you.” Sadness shakes his voice. “It is the fate of elves. Once our hearts fasten upon someone, we will never feel love for another. I will ache for you always and hate myself for doing so. Would that I had never seen you that day in the forest! Or would that I had been an elder, immune to such glamour, or at least that I fastened my love to another sidhe first. Then I would have been safe from you.”

“Are there no elders left in this city?” she wonders aloud.

“Those who survived fled. I know not where they are now.”

The door opens and Princess Uendil enters the room, followed by Tomoril. “They return, Brother,” she says. “They come with the elders of all the Nine Courts. Your time is finished.”

Kaladan snarls and raises his wand, but Uendil is quicker with hers. His wand shatters at her command. “The Courts revoke you of your mantle. Did you really think you could endure here?”

“We would have remained separated from the Courts!” he spits. “The
saldaka
would have stayed here and troubled none of you.”

“This is your own doing,” she accuses. “You betrayed the love of wisdom and brought disharmony to the Imperium. The blemish must be erased and the High Court restored.”

Meiri’s heart races. “How is it that you have not fastened? Where is your human pet?”

Uendil regards her sadly. “I fastened my heart to another elf before it was too late. The humans came so quickly, Brother, so I gave my heart to the closest elf I could find, to save myself from your ruin.” The princess’s gaze slips, and Meiri sees love in her eyes.

“Tomoril?” Meiri protests. “But he’s too young to love, and a servant!”

“But I am not too young, and now I am safe.” She touches Tomoril’s hands. “This is not the match I would have chosen, but better to love an elf servant than a human king.”

“I have promised to fasten to her once I quicken,” Tomoril says. “I am nearly of age.”

Kaladan’s shoulders slump as he stares at his servant. “You betrayed me!”

“You betrayed us all,” Tomoril replies. “I do not blame you. You fell prey to the glamour. I’ve witnessed all that you became, and I have no desire to suffer the same fate.”

Lights flash outside the window. Meiri rushes to look and gasps. Thousands of fiery comets, of all colors and hues, descend from the sky.

Kaladan closes his eyes in surrender. “Our time is over,” he tells Meiri sadly.

“I’m sorry,” Uendil says. “Father was right. Killing you is mercy.” She calls out in the mercurial words of magic and points her wand at Kaladan. He clutches his heart for a moment and falls over. The Archmage dies quietly on the floor.

Meiri cries out. She hadn’t expected to feel loss at Kaladan’s passing, but her heart aches. She looks at Uendil through watering eyes. “What about us? What about the humans held captive here? Will we be freed?”

Uendil regards her coldly. “You will not. You will bear witness to your doom.”

The elders of the Nine Courts wait for them. Tomoril guides Meiri, whose hands are bound together by magically created vines. She offers no resistance. She realizes this is the first time she’s been in the city outside the apartment. Every detail is a thing of beauty. If she had been able to walk freely in the city, she would never have wanted to leave.

The elders wear the colors of their Courts, and all nine are present. The purple of the High Court of Sutonia stands beside the red of the Flame Court of Seldanath. Then there are the blues of the Frost Court of Sirindle and the grays of the Shadow Court of Pirintel, followed by the green robes of the Leaf Court of Vemnathar, the orange of the Shining Court of Haranath, the bluish-green of the Water Court of Azurnath, the silver of the Celestial Court of Saldinia, and finally the gossamer robes of the Rainbow Court of Kallindle. The proceedings begin, and each Court announces themselves in order, stating what their city holds is the greatest expression of beauty: philosophy, poetry, mathematics, death, nature, medicine, dance, music, or art.

“Bear witness,” Uendil tells Meiri again. “Hear what is said today and remember.”

A sidhe of the Shadow Court, gray robes rustling, steps forward. “Humankind cannot be allowed to continue. The human wizards already try to pierce Artalon’s mysteries, and it’s only a matter of time before they learn to control the gods. And now this. Humankind is too dangerous.”

“We have watched them with concern,” agreed the Flame Court. “When the Exile Prince led his followers against Fairholm, their wizards retreated. But they now return in greater numbers, and Fairholm has sworn itself to Artalon. For protection from us. They are not without power. There is one of great wisdom who rises among the Artalonians, who could even challenge our magic.”

“Tal Harun,” hisses an elf in the orange of Haranath. “He is one of the Thirteen. The humans are expanding. They will not be content to leave us in peace. What does the High Court say?”

Uendil locks eyes with Meiri, and Meiri’s blood runs cold. “We have no Archmage yet to speak for the Imperium, but as Queen of Sutonia, I speak for my Court. None of the sidhe have suffered as we have here, all because of the glamour. Sutonia was almost lost and would have withered and died had we not intervened today. There would have been no more children. This would have been our last generation. Humankind poses an existential threat to the Imperium. We must kill all of them.”

The Courts murmur their assent.

“No!” Meiri pleads. “No! We didn’t choose this! We didn’t come here; you snatched us and stole us away. You can’t kill us, it’s not right! Let us go free. We’ll leave and never come back.”

“You misunderstand.” The new queen’s voice holds no trace of emotion. “I am not speaking of just the pets in this city. Your kind must be hunted and exterminated. All of you. When we are done, the human race will be extinct.”

“Why? Why tell me this? Why make me see this?” Meiri struggles against her vine bonds, but to no avail. “Why be so cruel?”

Uendil withdraws a crystal. “Because I want this to be recorded in the final memories of your life.” She turns the crystal between thumb and forefinger. “You will achieve immortality, of a kind. You will die, but your memories will be recorded here, for all the elders of the High Elven Imperium to experience. So we never forget and never lose focus.”

Meiri tries to run, but Tomoril holds her in place. Uendil presses the crystal against the center of Meiri’s forehead, and it flashes with bright, hot light. She screams in agony as fire lances through her head, and one by one memories are torn from her mind and recorded in the crystal as she dies.

Eszhira clutched the side of the table. “I saw…
everything
.”

Tallindra tucked the crystal away. “Thus we never forget.”

Her coffee had gone cold. They ordered a fresh round of cappuccinos, and the seelie sipped in quiet thought for a while. Tallindra waited for her to speak, staring at the gondolas passing by in Tavenport’s canals.

Eszhira finally broke her silence. “Meiri. A fisherman’s daughter. She was the reason the Imperium started its war against humankind, and it was that war that drove Artalon to Dis for the secrets of sorcery…”

“Now you understand.”

“To Dis…” Eszhira’s brow furrowed. “In the vision, when Meiri went to Leera’s sanctuary, she saw—”

“Yes,” Tallindra confirmed. “The Dark Citadel and the land forming around Tal Harun’s sanctuary spell. We believe that was the beginning of Dis. The Black Dragon’s dreamwalker already sat on the dark throne, drawn there by Tal Harun’s guilt as it festered in the Void.”

“And while he gathered strength, your people went to war with the human lands.”

“And we almost succeeded,” Tallindra added grimly. “And then those lords of Artalon turned to Dis and forsook wizardry for sorcery. They turned the genocide back on us and almost wiped us out. But that was a long time ago, and we no longer fear or hate humankind. But we have to be careful. Before we’re elders, if we haven’t yet given our heart to another elf, we risk falling into fascination the first time we meet each human. It’s a small chance, one in a hundred… but in a city, with thousands of people on the streets… you can see the risk. We lose our free will to the object of our desire. It’s undeniable and incurable. Sidhe love is like falling under a succubus’s charm spell, which is why we are slow and deliberate to cultivate it with each other. The unpredictability of human fascination scares us.”